


Drop Our Anchors in A Storm

by princessmiakitten



Category: Free!, Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, M/M, So basically, he only swims butterfly, rarepair, sousuke is a wing spiker and ushiwaka chan swims butterfly, sport switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:58:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmiakitten/pseuds/princessmiakitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So how about I go get lost and you come find me?”<br/>“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop Our Anchors in A Storm

**Author's Note:**

> throws up  
> basically this is word vomit

Yamazaki Sousuke would love to tell his friends back home that he managed not to get lost on his first trip outside of Japan and that he was able to navigate flawlessly throughout the streets of Rio de Janeiro.

Of course, that would mean that the volleyball player would be blatantly lying, not that anyone would believe his claims in the first place.

He didn’t know whether or not to be embarrassed by the fact that everyone just expected him to get lost, to the point where Rin actually tried to plant a tracking chip on Sousuke’s person. Of course, Sousuke had his pride to defend and stood his ground on the matter, vehemently refusing to let that thing anywhere near him.

Right about now, he really wished he had taken Rin up on the offer.

.Right now, he stands in the middle of the bustling streets of Rio, sweat making his tanned skin glisten in the suffocating sunlight, and he is completely and utterly lost. How he managed to get lost on his way to the stadium from the hotel, he didn’t exactly know.

And why he didn’t take the bus with the rest of the Japan team and opted to jog there to get his heart pumping, he didn’t exactly know the reason either.

In his defense, his teammates should’ve known better and talked him out of it. He never said he made the best decisions.

So here Yamazaki Sousuke stands, approximately 19,000 kilometers from his home, sweating to death in a foreign country, surrounded by people speaking a language of which he did not understand a lick.

“Finally, I caught up to you--” Sweet, sweet familiarity of his native tongue came in the form of a wheeze from behind him, and Sousuke couldn’t have turned around fast enough.

If he had been anyone else (aka one Hazuki Nagisa), he would’ve immediately cried out in relief and hugged the other male, who was currently bent over and trying to regain his breath. But, because he definitely isn’t, Sousuke keeps his composure, allowing the other space to breathe.

When the other male stands up straight, Sousuke could immediately tell he was another athlete. By the way he came a few minutes behind Sousuke and the way he was huffing and puffing trying to catch up to him, the other man was definitely not a track star by any means, nor could be a cyclist.

Swimming, maybe?

He definitely had the arm definition for it from what Sousuke could see.

“I guess this is what I get for sleeping in. I miss the bus and had to follow you around and now we’re both lost.” The other male had a deeply set grimace with which Sousuke couldn’t even compete. “How do you not even know where you’re going? Why would you go by foot if you don’t even know the way?”

Sousuke figures he should respond by now, but he’s much too hot and his initial relief from meeting this other Japanese athlete has worn off, leaving a hint of annoyance along with his indifference. So he shrugs, pulling out his phone to try and call his teammates, once again only managing to reach their voicemail boxes.

This is definitely how he’s going to die: in a strange place with this strange, angry man, on a day where the sun decided to shit on his life and shine as bright as it possibly could.

And then it dawned on him.

Taxis were a thing.

“Hey, do you have any Brazilian money?” Apparently the other man had been berating Sousuke on his life choices and didn’t take kindly to his spiel being interrupted, as shown by the angry glint in his olive eyes. Before he can start on another long rant that Sousuke probably wouldn’t listen to, he relays his plan, deciding that since they were both equally fucked, he’d help a brother out. “We can just take a taxi to the stadium. Someone’s gotta know where it is, right?”

And finally the grimace cracked into something akin to a smirk.

Sousuke would have to help him out with that. It might scare someone.

“Guess you’re not a complete idiot.” And if Sousuke were a lesser man, he’d take more offense to that. Instead, he focuses his energy on flagging down a taxi and prays to whatever God is out there that it’s air conditioned.

His prayers are answered, and it’s not long before he’s in the back of the taxi with the other athlete, shoulders touching as they each look out their respective windows at the city passing by, and not saying one word to each other until they reach the large stadium, where Sousuke offers to buy the other a drink back at the hotel before they part ways to go to their respective training areas.

And, of course, no one on his team is surprised when he recounts his tale. Instead of a single ounce of sympathy, he receives orders to go stretch and then get on the court for practice.

Sousuke, without a complaint, complies, eager to make up for the lost time with his beloved ball.

At the prime age of twenty years old, Yamazaki Sousuke was the newest and youngest addition to the National Japanese volleyball team, and a starting member, no less. He had a power like no other, and he easily secured the spot as the team’s left wing spiker. While he did seem aloof and a little on the slow side off the court, he had an unbreakable concentration and scarily fast reflexes that left opponents dumbfounded.

After hours of strenuous practice that left his muscles aching and his chest heaving, the coach finally decides to call it a day and leaves the court with a promise that tomorrow’s practice would be even longer and a long look at Sousuke that could only mean that he wouldn’t be allowed to come alone.

Sousuke has the decency to look a little ashamed.

On his way out, he passes the pool, the heat radiating from the open doors at first too unappealing for him. But he hears that same gruff voice from the morning, and there’s a smidgen of satisfaction when he realizes that his previous assumption was correct.

Grumpy Pants was a swimmer.

Sousuke looks behind him and notices that he has a little bit of time before the others start to pile out, so he goes into the arena despite the humidity in the air, taking a seat high up in the stands.

His eyes lock in on the familiar build, the olive toned hair, which-- Sousuke thinks-- is probably due to the amount of exposure to the chlorine in the water. He notes, with more than a little interest than he’d like to admit out loud, that Grumpy Pants has a nicely cut body.

The swimmer snaps on his cap and goggles, takes his place at the starting block, and Sousuke swears his heart stops when he watches the man take off into the water as soon as the whistle blows.

Now, he’s no stranger to the swimming sport-- He was surrounded by swimmers growing up. Back in Iwatobi, everyone and their mother swam, and Rin and Haru even started to do it competitively back in Japan. But he’d never seen such power, such passion in someone’s butterfly stroke.

He could give Haru a run for his money with how beautiful it was.

Sousuke’s hypnotized and he doesn’t snap out of it until the buzzer sounds, disgustingly loud, and he immediately looks at the board for the time.

He shouldn’t even be as impressed as he is since it’s the Olympics, but he is. With one last look at Grumpy Pants, or Ushijima Wakatoshi according the the letters on the screen, Sousuke walks out of the arena and right in to Iwaizumi Hajime, who does not hesitate in dragging Sousuke out to the bus by his ear.

That night, Sousuke doesn’t risk going out with the rest of the volleyball team to explore the town. He’s had enough adventure for the day, so he spends the evening in the hotel’s lounge, unwinding with a nice strawberry daiquiri.

If there’s anything good that came out of being friends with Rin for so long, it was the addiction to fruity alcoholic drinks.

He’s about to order another when his eyes catch onto the lithe frame of Grumpy Pants and he suddenly remembers that he had a promise to uphold of drinks as payment. Sousuke is nothing if not a man of his word.

He could hear Rin laughing in his head.

Sousuke brushes it off and begins to walk in the direction of the bar where the swimmer was headed, taking a seat right next to his barstool.

“I do believe I promised you a drink?” To that, Ushijima only raises a brow and nods slowly, a little surprised that Sousuke even remembered. But he doesn’t question it, only giving the bartender his order because after the day from hell he’s had at the expense of the raven-haired man next to him, he needs it.

“So, what are you doing here?” It’s not like Sousuke doesn’t know. It’s just that he’d rather hear it from Grumpy Pants himself. There was something nice and warm underneath that low gruff. It was easy for Sousuke to lose himself in the conversation, one drink turning into six and tight lips loosening up and speaking more freely.

It wasn’t only for talking that they loosened up.

After the eighth fruity cocktail, the duo decided to head up to their rooms, and as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, their lips were locked with Sousuke’s back pressed up against the cold, metal wall. There were hands roaming, hair pulled back, teeth against skin.

It was honestly a miracle that they ended up in Ushijima’s hotel room, that they were able to even put the card in the slot with how intoxicated they were.

But, they manage, and soon there’s a trail of clothes leading up to the bedroom and the sound of the mattress creaking following.

Sousuke wakes up the next morning with a pounding head, an aching backside, and absolutely no regret.

Unfortunately that also came with a nagging captain, extra laps around the court, and the teasing of everyone on the volleyball team.

The next few weeks are spent practicing up until the actual games, and Sousuke leaves the stadium more and more sore each night. However, he finds that Grumpy Pants is actually pretty good company underneath that scary mask of a face he puts on for the world to see.

What’s most surprising is that Ushijima actually has a nice smile.

They’d still have to work on the smirk, though.

 

This new attention from Ushijima has done wonders for Sousuke’s concentration on the court. He’s become steadily more aware of each player on the court and it helps him spike with more accuracy than normal.

However with each game, there’s more and more attention on Sousuke from te press-- more than he knows what to do with. He’s never been a big fan of the press, of the flashing lights from cameras that blind his eyes and leaves him seeing dots of color. It makes him clam up, not that it shows on his generally impassive face.

On days like that, he spends the night in the room, trying not to work himself up. An anxious Sousuke was never a good one.

When Sousuke isn’t playing a game, he’s in the swimming arena, watching the races with rapt interest. He was no stranger to competitive swimming, but it took his breath away each and every time he watches Ushijima swim, those strong arms pushing the water out of his way.

More often than not, he records the races to send to Rin, the redhead still in awe over the fact that Sousuke was there, watching the live races with his own eyes.

He has an idle thought to introduce Rin to Ushijima-- and immediately kills the idea since there’s no way he’s introducing his embarrassing best friend to this lame person.

There’s a sense of pride that wells up in his chest when the buzzer sounds and it’s the only thing that can tear Sousuke’s eyes away from the swimmer, taking in the fact that the number one is lit up next to Ushijima’s name.

And the smile that lights up Ushijima’s face upon noticing was nothing less than brilliant.

While the other swimmers were finishing up, Sousuke sneaks out of the arena and goes to congratulate the winner, pulling him over to the side so he can wrap his arms around Ushijima’s slender waist.

Grumpy Pants, for once, isn’t grumpy.

“You did it! You won gold!” Sousuke can’t keep the excitement away from showing on his face.

“Of course I did. I only swim butterfly.” ...The Lord is testing him. Sousuke physically has to restrain himself from not hitting Ushijima in the back of the head. He supposes modesty isn’t for everyone.

The duo don’t see each other again until after the final volleyball match: Japan versus Russia. It’s a long match and it puts a slight strain on Sousuke’s slightly weaker knee, but his adrenaline is running high even hours after they won.

They won.

Sousuke helped bring his team victory.

The giddy feeling even affects Ushijima, who treated Sousuke more tenderly behind closed doors, and it’s all laughter and hands roaming, soft and sweet tonight.

Despite his desires, Rin and Ushijima accidentally meet via Skype the night before the awards ceremony. He knew he shouldn’t have left his laptop in Ushijima’s room and he knew he should’ve waited to get his can of cola from the vending machine because when he comes back, he can hear Rin’s voice coming from the speakers and he just knows that tone of voice and all he can really do is sigh.

It’s his fault, really, for befriending such people.

Sousuke lets them continue their argument about swimming or whatever it is that they were arguing about, opting to recline in bed.

It ends with Rin challenging Ushijima to a race, and Sousuke can feel in his bones that it was a bad idea, but he’d never been able to stop Rin from doing what he wanted.

“Did you have fun talking to my best friend that I haven’t spoken to yet?” Sousuke’s voice is colored with amusement, his hand slowly running through Ushijima’s short locks as the volleyball player rested his head on Sousuke’s chest.

“Homeboy looks like shark week. I’m a little afraid I might get bitten.”

Well, it’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that.

They spend the night in each other’s arms, unable to sleep from the nervousness and excitement for the awards ceremony. Team Japan, snatching the gold for volleyball and the 400m butterfly race.

The awards ceremony is long and Sousuke just can’t seem to sit still-- On the other hand, Ushijima is sitting like a statue, shoulders back and arms across his chest. He’s not going to lie, he cheers absurdly loud when the swimming winners are announced, but people probably chalk that up to team pride. They don’t get to see each other again until the party, where most of the time is spent with their respective sports teams.

When enough pictures are taken and enough stories are told, they manage to find their way to each other, a slight grin on Sousuke’s lips as he leans in to speak in Ushijima’s ear.

“So how about I go get lost and you come find me?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
